


Under Pressure

by Blaumeise



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25336858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaumeise/pseuds/Blaumeise
Summary: Axl's ideas were like parasites. First, they seemed small and harmless, but once their hooks had found a hold in his brain, they grew and grew and eventually he dedicated his and our lives to feeding them into monstrosities. When Axl had caught a bug in his ear, he expected the world to adjust its orbit to it. It made him so successful, it made him the most difficult person I had ever met in my life, it made him what you had to deal with if you wanted to be a part of Guns n' Roses.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Slash | Saul Hudson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16





	Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker. Apologizes for any mistakes or awkward expressions. Previously posted to my LJ.

The main problem with Axl was, that he was unable to do things by halves. If he set his mind on doing something, he threw himself right into it, whether it was making a record, holding a grudge or treating people like shit. Axl's ideas were like parasites. First, they seemed small and harmless, but once their hooks had found a hold in his brain, they grew and grew and eventually he dedicated his and our lives to feeding them into monstrosities. When Axl had caught a bug in his ear, he expected the world to adjust its orbit to it. It made him so successful, it made him the most difficult person I had ever met in my life, it made him what you had to deal with if you wanted to be a part of Guns n' Roses. 

I didn't bother to think much about it when he got on the health trip. Hey, I had my own addictions, so if he wanted to trip on echinacea, ginseng and arnica, fine with me. Whatever made him happy. What I hadn't taken into account was, that Axl being Axl, he wouldn't be happy with drinking immuno-fortifying tonics and inhaling aromatherapy-sprays, no, Axl rammed his horns like a bull right into the wide field of alternative medicine; and got stuck. 

Within a few months he was obsessed with health. He knew how many vitamins, minerals and hidden poisons you could find in any kind of food, and whenever I opened my mouth to bite into a burger, I was treated to a graphic description of how the saturated fatty-acids were going to clog my arteries, and what exactly I could expect during bye-pass-surgery. Not that he thought I would live long enough to experience the less pleasant side-effects of my disgusting eating-habits, for, of course, my various addictions would kill me first. 

Being his ever generous self, Axl was determined to spread the benefits of his new life-style to his bandmates. He tried to turn backstage into a smoke-free environment. He wanted piss-tests. He ordered organic, high fibre food for the backstage-parties. He drove us all nuts. 

When Duff caught a cold, Axl treated him with herbal medicine, prescribed hot and cold showers and held a thirty minutes speech about a healthier life-style, and how irresponsible it was of Duff to get sick and endanger the tour. It was the last time I've heard anybody sneeze or cough. Nobody whined about backpain, cramped muscles or, heaven forbid, hangover, because Axl would jump at each and every opportunity to practice his newly developed skills. 

This tour promised to be hell. 

I made a habit out of retreating to my hotel-room as soon as possible, just me, a bottle of Jack and a few chicks now and then. I've become a rocker to have fun in life, not to discuss the wonders lungwort did to clear out your respiratory tract. 

Today was no difference. After a day on the bus all I wanted was to be left alone, but as usually there was no such luck. 

"Slash?" Axl had eventually learned to knock before storming a room and I couldn't stifle a groan when I heard his knuckles rap a quick staccato against the door. 

"Door is open," I said without getting up from the bed. It wasn't one of those click-shut-doors, but an old-fashioned one you had to lock with a tiny key that dangled from one of those giant brass-dingbats hotels called key-rings. I've always wondered whether they gave them to you so you had something to defend yourself with should you be attacked in the elevator. They were sure heavy enough to crack somebody's skull. 

I craned my neck to watch Axl enter and enjoyed the view a little longer than was absolutely necessary. I loved it when he looked like this. He was barefoot, wearing loose sweat-pants and a million-year-old T-shirt. It made him appear so normal, not like the crazed-out diva-bitch, just like Axl and it was almost enough to fool me into believing that maybe, maybe there was still a spark of sanity in his mind. 

I've always had a weak spot for his looks, but I would have rather castrated myself than acting on it. Coming on to Axl would be a wonderful way to have my balls ripped off and served for dinner, together with low-fat-sauce and some blanched veggie-sticks on the side 

Axl came over to me, and again I mused over how somebody so insane could look so innocent. His eyes were almost childlike under hardly existing red-blond lashes, sparkling with curiosity and excitement. This, I knew from experience, was always a bad omen.

"I need a volunteer," he sat down on the bed, a book in his lap. "And you're it. Get up and strip."

"What?" I sat up and stared at him. I wondered if he had lost his mind, but then, I knew he had years ago. 

"It's not that bad." Axl looked offended; as if the worst he had ever edged me into doing was eating strawberry-cake without cream. 

"Then what is it?" I asked. 

"I just want to practice some of this shit." He held up the book. _Acupressure and Acupuncture_ the title read. 

"You're not sticking any needles into me," I yelped when I saw that a small box was sitting under the book. 

"Why not? You're sticking needles into yourself all the time."

Yeah, how kind of him to remind me. 

"I don't want to," I said and tried to stare him down. Useless to say that I failed. 

"Oh fuck, don't be such a pussy!" With an exasperated sigh Axl grabbed my T-shirt and tried to pull it over my head. 

Under different circumstances I would have enjoyed being stripped by Axl Rose and a little bit of wrestling could be a major turn on, but the prospect of having stuck a dozen needles into my flesh made me put up more than just a token fight. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, stop being so difficult," he snarled while he tried to peel the T-shirt off me. "They say it helps to cure addictions, so you should be grateful I'm offering to do it for you."

I got tangled in the T-shirt and it was all the advantage Axl needed. He pinned me on the bed and sat down on my belly. I heard cloth ripping and then I looked at the sad remains of what had once been a very comfortable T-shirt. 

"I know what I'm doing," Axl said from above me. His hair hung down and into my face and his eyes blazed with excitement. Another thing I would have enjoyed under different circumstances. "I've read the book. And the needles are sterile if you're afraid of fucking AIDS. And it doesn't hurt. They’re so small are you won't even feel them."

"I don't want to," I repeated, holding his gaze. 

"Fuck!" He released me and I breathed a sigh of relief. 

Axl sat back on my naked thighs. He tossed his hair back over his shoulders and the disappointment on his face made me almost feel guilty. I picked up the book and flipped through the pages. 

"You can do the pressure-shit," I said and handed Axl the book.

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and let it plop out again. "I'd rather do the needles."

Great. Now he was sulking, lips drawn into a pout and all. I loved his pout. It made him look sexy. Not that I should be travelling down that road right now, not with Axl still sitting on my legs and me being dressed in not much more than my dignity. 

"You can do the pressure-thing today," I said. "And I'll think about the needles."

Oh God, had I just said that? Had I just agreed to have Axl stick needles into me? According to the happy smile that appeared out of nowhere, I just had. Yes, Axl does smile from time to time. Not sneer, grin or smirk, but really, really smile. It's one of the most beautiful sights on earth. It's not even so difficult to make him smile, you only have to give in to one of his stupid ideas. 

"OK." Axl scrambled off my legs and reassumed his place on the bedside. "Strip and relax."

"Uhm, Axl," I said. "You've already done that for me." I was wearing nothing but boxers since he had wrestled me out of the T-shirt. 

Axl looked up with a frown. "Nah, everything off. Like the guy in the picture. Look."

He turned the book into my direction. 'The guy' was a stick-figure without any sexual attributes. He might have very well been a she. 

"Oh fuck, get a move on, Slash!" Axl said when I hesitated. I really didn't want to be naked with Axl's hands on me. 

"Uhm," I made for a lack of better words when Axl tucked at the waistband, trying to pull my boxers down. 

"Ass up, Slash."

I obeyed. I was so used to giving in to Axl, I had lifted my ass before I even noticed and there they went. Naked I watched while he flipped through the blasted book. 

"Lie down, close your eyes, relax!" he ordered like a military instructor. 

The first two orders I could follow, the third was a bit difficult. I flinched when Axl picked up my arm and started working on my hand. I had expected him to just press at the respective points, but instead he rubbed small circles into my skin. 

"Do you feel something?" he asked while he worked himself up to the next pressure-point on my arm. 

"What am I supposed to feel?" I asked back. 

"No idea." Now I had his hands on my chest, on my belly, my hips. Fuck, that felt nice. I had always been convinced that Axl would have good hands. When he wrapped them around the microphone, I liked to imagine it was my cock that moved towards to his mouth. And then, when he parted his lips and his tongue would flicker out until it almost touched the head, then…"

"There," Axl said. "Now you're relaxing."

He sounded pleased with himself, as if it was a miracle that a massage made me relax.

"What do you feel?" he asked again. 

"Just feels good," I mumbled. "Warm. Bit tingly. Nice."

Fuck, this was paradise. I floated happily in the sensation while Axl worked me over, and was just about to give up all precautions, when all of a sudden, he stopped. 

"Hm," he said and I opened my eyes to see him flip through his book. "I can't find anything about this."

"About what?" I asked and he motioned towards my legs.

"That."

I looked down and caught my breath in shock. I was rock hard. 

"Shit," I sputtered. "Sorry, man." He was gonna kill me! I sat up and tried to get off the bed. I needed the bathroom. Urgently. But Axl just pushed me back. 

"Lie still," he growled. "Don't know how I produced that, maybe I hit the wrong spot. The book doesn't even mention this could happen. Or maybe I've found something completely new. I could become famous for this." He closed the book with a thud and pushed it onto the nightstand. "OK," he sighed. "It's my fault. I guess I've gotta fix it."

I yelped when Axl's hand closed around my cock. 

"Fuck, Slash," he snarled. "Let me fix you, OK? Stop being so fucking homophobe!"

"Homophobe?" I spat. "Me?"

"Yeah, you!" Axl pushed me back on the bed. Then his hands returned to my cock.

"I swear," he rambled on while stroking my dick with one hand and petting my balls with the other. "You're so uptight, it's not even funny anymore. Must be those British genes you've got. As if it made you less of a man to let me help you out here."

His fingers ran over the head of my cock, generously smearing precum. I could still hear his voice, but it came from far, far away. 

"Really, as if it made a difference whether you have a chick or a guy doing this, the result is always the same: a fucking mess smeared all over you."

I groaned as the petting turned into a full massage. I knew I should run as long as I still possessed a little bit of free will, but to feel Axl's fingers dig into my flesh was just too much. This was almost heaven; almost for the rant hadn't stopped, yet. 

"Does fucking a goat make you a man? Believe me, I've seen people do it. Goats, sheep, cows, even pigs. Apparently, that's a male thing to do. Fucking a goat is OK, but having another guy touch your dick is a no go. How sick is that?"

'Yeah, Axl', I thought, when one hand left my balls to stroke behind them. 'That's it, exactly that spot.' I was just about to come if he only… yes, if he quickened his pace just like that, yes that was the rhythm I liked, not too slow, not too fast and… oh, fucking holy mother, what was that?

I felt my back arch, I just couldn't help it. This was just incredible, it was…was…

"Yeah, Slash, you see?" Somehow Axl's voice found its way through my foggy brain. "A finger up your ass can feel really good if you're the type for that. I'm not, but obviously you are."

Axl pumped cum from my cock as if he was milking a cow. His left hand was still between my legs and I felt the finger inside me, massaging me, the movements becoming gentle while the fireworks behind my eyelids burned out. 

"See?" Axl pulled free and wiped his hands on the sheets. "It wasn't that bad."

I only stared at him, lying in my own sweat, cum smeared over me. I blinked dumbly when he bowed forward and kissed me right onto my mouth. 

"Next time we'll do the needles," he said, gathered his book and his small box and left me to clean myself up. 

-The End-


End file.
